The FBI Thrillers Collection Books 6-10 - Catherine Coulter [525]
For the barest moment, Günter simply stared at him. Then he shrugged, and his voice was as empty as the still air itself. “I destroyed him. That is all I need. Whatever the world thinks, it doesn’t concern me.”
Savich said, “What makes you think I won’t tell the world?”
Günter smiled. “Because you’ll be dead, as dead as I will be. Three corpses know the truth. It is enough.”
Sherlock said, “But you weren’t alone in this, were you? Who was the woman with you the night you fired into our house?”
Günter laughed, but his gun never wavered from her chest. “Who cares anyway? That woman in my car was just a drunk I picked up at a bar. She was good camouflage, to help me get through roadblocks.”
“But you know it stops here, Günter,” Sherlock said. “It stops now.”
Günter laughed. “It doesn’t stop until I say it does. I’ve spent enough time with you. I’m going to die, but you’re going to hell with me.”
Ben shouted from behind Günter, “Don’t you even think of shooting or I’ll blow your head off!”
Günter whirled, fired, and kicked out all in the space of a moment. The bullet slammed into the wall not two inches from Ben’s head as Günter’s left foot struck his arm, numbing it instantly, and sending the gun crashing to the floor, skidding toward the front door.
Ben dived at Günter, slamming him onto his back to the hall floor, but Günter’s locked fisted hands smashed hard into Ben’s throat, just as his legs kicked up against his back, throwing him off. Ben fell against the areca palm, gagging, trying to get his breath. Günter fired into the living room, sending Savich and Sherlock diving behind the sofa. Then he fired toward Ben as he rolled away, shattering a beautiful Chinese vase, and sending the palm tree crashing to the entrance hall floor. It was the palm tree that saved Ben’s life. The next bullet shot through fronds, striking so close he could smell the singed material from his jacket sleeve. Günter burst through the front door, slamming it behind him, and leaped down the front steps.
Ben heard Savich shout at him, but he didn’t stop. He grabbed his gun up in his left hand, threw open the front door, and raced after him, Savich three feet behind him.
From the darkness, Jimmy Maitland yelled, “No, hold your fire!”
“There’s no escape, Günter,” Savich shouted. “Agents are everywhere. Stop where you are and drop the gun.”
Savich switched on the front lights, held his SIG in front of him as he looked at Günter. Ben was just to his left, behind a large urn that held an Italian cypress tree. For an instant, their eyes met.
Günter didn’t drop his gun, he shot from the hip, missing Savich by inches. Before he could fire again, a single loud rifle shot pierced the air. Günter whirled about, thrown forward as he slapped one palm against his neck. The last thing he saw was Dave Dempsey stepping from out behind a car at the curb, a sniper rifle aimed at him.
A half-dozen agents came running from their positions, guns aimed at the unmoving body. They walked to where the man who’d wreaked so much devastation lay, unmoving.
There was absolutely no sound for a good thirty seconds. Finally Jimmy Maitland said, “Jesus, am I glad that’s over.”
Ben nodded, stood up. “Sherlock, are you okay?”
“Yes, fine. Don’t worry about me.”
Jimmy Maitland said, “He doesn’t look all that scary now, does he? He just looks like a dead old man with a slack jaw. Nice shot, Dave. And thank you, Ben. You shaved it a little close, but you got him out to us.”
He turned to Savich, who had Sherlock pressed against his chest. “I was watching through the living room window, Savich. When he put that bullet through Sherlock’s arm, I nearly shot him myself then. Okay, I guess it’s time to call Dr. Conrad and get the trash taken away.”
Two paramedics came quickly forward, stepping over Günter to see to Sherlock. Ben looked at Savich, but Savich was focused on his wife.
He turned back and